


Faulty Logic

by Highsmith (quimtessence)



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: #HopLogic, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, Come Eating, Come Swallowing, Comeplay, Coming In Pants, Consensual Underage Sex, Deepthroating, Dom/sub Undertones, Dry Humping, Explicit Sexual Content, Face-Fucking, Filthy, Future Fic, Group Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Season/Series 02, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Smut, Voyeurism, Wet & Messy, Will Byers Is Sixteen Years Old
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:21:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22456396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quimtessence/pseuds/Highsmith
Summary: Jim's got rules, of a sort.
Relationships: Will Byers/Billy Hargrove, Will Byers/Billy Hargrove/Jim "Chief" Hopper, Will Byers/Jim "Chief" Hopper
Comments: 6
Kudos: 62





	Faulty Logic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trashcangimmick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashcangimmick/gifts).



Jim knows the only reason Joyce hasn't flipped her lid and put a stop to this is because she truly believes Will dropping out of high school at sixteen, just a few months back now, to become an artist is something a good mother should support. And by _this_ , Jim mostly means Will practically living at the cabin with him and the other stray Jim seems to have collected since Neil Hargrove packed his shit up and left town a little over a year ago, leaving his family behind like the shitstain Jim never doubted he was and is.

Some days he wonders whether Billy's a worse influence than him. That's before Jim remembers he's supposed to be the adult here, not that thinking that has done him much good in practice. At which point he cracks open a cold one and tries to drown what's left of his common human decency in whatever leftover cheap crap he can scrounge up from the back of the fridge because Billy's already finished the good shit bought with Jim's hard-earned money. Once the hangover hits the next day, though, the half-guilty thoughts come back with it. He does have some sense of shame over letting shit just fucking happen around here.

Case in point, allowing and possibly encouraging Will Byers to spend his days (and some nights) wasting his time around the place, with or without Jim there to supervise, getting up to who knows how much trouble courtesy of Billy Hargrove, the biggest pain in the ass to anyone who has ever met him for more than five seconds.

His logic's faulty, he knows that much. It has to be if, once he drags himself home and is greeted with the sight of Will getting his face fucked kneeling between Billy's legs where he's sprawled on the couch, his first impulse isn't to be the voice of reason. He's kidding himself if he believe his fucking sense of propriety is anywhere to be found.

Instead, he eyeballs Billy on his way to the fridge and grunts at the smirk he receives for his troubles. He comes back already half out of his uniform, shirt unbuttoned over his undershirt all the way down to let his stomach breathe, holster and badge tucked away in a kitchen drawer to be put safely away later, hat and trooper jacket hanging on the nearest chair. He hovers undecided near the couch for only a moment, messy slurping sounds and the occasional moan filling his head just as steadily as they're filling the room, before he plops himself down next to Billy and cracks his beer open. He takes a large gulp, wondering how much of a bad influence he's gonna end up being today. Ain't helping much that he's got a half-chub already, and the noises in the room have his blood flowing downwards faster than he'd like.

His eyes drag of their own accord to stare at Billy's fingers where they sink into Will's hair, guiding him up and down his cock. There's spit and pre-come everywhere, in Billy's pubes and down his balls and smeared around Will's face. Billy's dick might be average at best lengthwise, but he's fat where it counts, stretching Will's lips near their limit where his cock's the widest. The way he's pulling out to right below the head before pushing back in to the root has the kid's throat visibly working on every other thrust. Jim can see his hands gripping at Billy's calves for support, knuckles white, but if Billy even so much as tries to slow them down Will gags himself in his haste to swallow him back down, as if already missing Billy's dick as deep inside of him as it'll go, lodging itself in there, coating his tonsils with pre-come and choking him out when it becomes too much.

It's not a sight a man will ever tire of, Jim'll tell anyone that for free.

Billy must be pretty darn gone already, eyes closed tight and hips humping upwards more often than not. Will's knuckles are claws on Billy's legs, gripping for dear life, even though Jim has a stark view of Will's jeans obscenely tenting at the crotch. If it were him, he'd be jacking it for all he was worth by now, kind of aches to take his dick out right this minute. But Will likes being a good boy for Billy, for the both of them, so Jim's not really surprised he hasn't made an attempt at touching himself just yet.

He doesn't get a chance to, either. Billy's practically humping Will's face at this point, dick sunk fully inside, barely letting off an inch, balls rubbing against any part of Will's face they can reach. He's not pulling at his hair, Jim notices, at this point merely gripping his skull at the base, fingers starfished at the back of his neck to make it easy for him to fuck Will's throat good and proper without having to take a breather in between thrusts. On his last, his back finally bows in an arch over Will's whining form, and Jim watches Will's throat working swiftly to swallow everything down.

With a final twitch, Billy sinks back down into the couch cushions, both relaxed-looking and seemingly depleted. Jim can empathise; throat-fucking Will Byers just right takes a lot out of you, and Jim should know.

Head tipped back, eyes closed, he finishes what's left of his beer in one long swallow. He takes his time licking the very dregs off the rim of the can before letting it fall to the floor by the side of the couch. Only then does he focus back on Will, who is now kneeing his way over, face flushed and lips swollen but looking as hungry as anything.

Jim's got rules. Still. Somehow, he's managed to enforce at least some of them some of the time. He hasn't fucked Will, as in gotten his dick wet in the kid's ass or anywhere near it, and he's only fucked his face a half dozen times after a six-pack made it sound like a good idea inside his own head the first time around. Six times in a couple of months is nothing at all. He could be having it twice a day if he wanted, breakfast of champions for Will before Jim had to leave for the station and a proper throat-fuck to put him down for a nap after Jim got in from work.

For the most part, he looks the other way where Billy and him are concerned, or at worst watches and tries to keep his cock away from the proceedings. Billy's ass gets its fair share of poundings to make up for it. All that being said, there's no reason to be _mean_.

He allows Will to snuggle up to his leg, and even encourages him to go for what he wants straight away, no bullshit, and what he wants that Jim will allow is to hump his teenage dick through three layers of clothing against Jim's leg like a lost puppy needing to breed _now now now_ lest his little cock burst from all the spunk it's been keeping safe and sound. No, Jim's not mean, so he threads his fingers in Will's hair, already messy from Billy's hands, and slips them down to the back of his neck as an anchor to steady the kid while he gets his against Jim's leg. Least he can do.

Meanwhile, Billy's starting to recover enough to sit up. From past experience, it's a coin toss whether he's feeling generous after getting off. Jim prefers to keep him aching until the end on principle. With that in mind, he uses the hand not gripping at Will to unbutton himself one-handed. He's an old pro at this by now, and his cock's out and leaking in his hand within moments. Billy shifts next to him, but that could mean anything. He glances over to see him halfway to standing up from his seat. Figures.

On his way up, he leans over to lick leisurely at Jim's cheek. The little shit moves away with a shit-eating grin thrown casually at Jim's palm moving on his own cock, as if to say he _could_ lend a hand but would rather leg it to the fridge to have himself some more of Jim's beer and leave him to his own fingers.

If Jim's a little rougher with himself than he'd be normally, then it's nobody's business but his. He lets Will finish himself off, which he does in a few short minutes, slim hips bouncing sharply against Jim's calf towards the end there. A measly beer's not enough to tip the scales towards anything more, so Jim keeps his hands to himself other that scritching blunt nails against Will's scalp coaxingly each time it seems he might need a metaphorical hand in reaching the finish line.

Billy's still busy raiding his fridge out in the kitchen, and Will is unsurprisingly come-drunk and unlikely to snap to from where he's slumped over Jim's knees, not that he has much in the way of expectations from the kid where his dick is concerned, so Jim gets comfortable pulling one out fast and nasty, his other hand now free to pull at his own balls until they ache and hurt and have no choice but to give it up in his own palm. He didn't get a chance to jerk it in the shower that morning, hence he's not too surprised it comes out a bit thicker than it's been his usual these days. When Billy Hargrove's in your bed every night you're guaranteed a good fuck at least once per day.

He's careful with his palmful, not in the mood to do a load of laundry if he were to spill on his uniform, but Will makes that a moot point when he raises his head just as Jim's gingerly keeping the mess contained in his cupped palm as he tries to figure out how to remove himself from underneath the boy. He noses at the side of Jim's hand, and Jim gets the hint, how could he not, and fingers his own load into Will's mouth, little by little, until there's only a few streaks left to clean up at the base of his thumb, which Will does away with primly with neat little kitten licks that have Jim's cock valiantly twitching in the open vee of his pants.

He might not be able to get it up again just yet, but he appreciates the sentiment. And, besides, he's more likely than not to get lucky again later.

For the time being, he calls out to Billy to bring him a beer as well on his way over, what with it being purchased on Jim's dime and all, and steadfastly avoids giving in to Will's pouting to give him a taste, though he's under no illusions Billy's not letting him have at least a sip or two from his own can whenever Jim's not looking.

But that's on Billy. Jim's got rules, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll leave my [tumblr](https://rhubarbdreams.tumblr.com/) here for posterity, shall I.


End file.
